LETTERS FROM ALABAMA. 
59 
And now, as the declining sun indicates the 
approach of five o’clock, having dismissed our 
tumultuous boys, who have rushed from their 
restraint whooping and shouting at the return of 
liberty, we, with perhaps not less of enjoyment, 
will take our quiet walk homeward. We have yet 
two good hours of day, although the fierce heat of 
the high sun has in some degree abated. The day- 
fliers have not yet retired, for here is that wide- 
spread species, the Violet-tip Butterfly ( Orapta C 
aureum), slaking its thirst at the edge of the brook. 
And just now I saw another northern species, the 
little Pearl Crescent Fritillary TJiaros)^ 
which seems to be rather common. 
The Turtle-doves [Columba Carolinensis) have 
been making the woods resound with their soft and 
mournful notes for some hours, but just now they 
are most garrulous in their melancholy. In truth it 
is a sweet sound ; there is something inexpressibly 
touehing in it, soothing our spirits and calming us 
into unison with the peaceful quiet of nature. It 
puts one in mind of the note of our own country’s 
Cuckoo, so full of summer and all its pleasant asso- 
ciations ; but the coo of the Turtle is softer, more 
deliberate, and consists of five svHables instead of 
two. They generally fly in pairs at this season, and 
often utter their coo as they sit on the road-fences, 
whence they frequently descend to the roads to peck 
among the gravel, or to bask in the sun and dust. 
They seem of a confiding nature, and to possess a 
large share of that gentleness and tenderness we 
are accustomed to associate with all the doves. As 
if conscious how much of a favourite it is, this sweet 
bird will scarcely leave the fence, or even the road, 
at the approach of a passenger. Its confidence, 
